under his breath.
Colby whispered back. “That’s what I said. Ceiling.”
Ewan tried again, still trying not to let the pixies hear. “No,” he said “SEE-LEE. Seelie. No ling. See-lee.”
“Oh, seelie,” Colby whispered back.
“Yes. Seelie,” said Caja with both hands on her hips, floating inches from his head. She cocked her head disapprovingly, wondering whether it was a good idea to have a new boy around at all. This one seemed rather thick. “Who are you, anyway?”
“I’m Colby.”
Caja looked at her sisters.
“Go on! Go on!” they said in unison. Each fluttered about, trading places, never flying in one spot for more than three seconds at a time.
Caja nodded. “And what do you do?”
“What do you mean?” asked Colby.
“What do you do? What are you? What is your reason for being?” she asked, as if he was simply too stupid to understand.
“I’m a kid,” he answered.
Unimpressed, she pressed on. “And?”
“And I can see things,” he continued.
“See things?” she pressed further.
“That other people can’t.”
“OH!” she exclaimed. “Well, that’s quite special! And how did you come by that?”
“A djinn spit in my eyes,” he answered.
The four fairies hovered in place, bewildered, their wings still beating furiously, their limp jaws dangling open. “Ew,” said Talwyn. “Gross.”
“Ew, I know, right?” agreed Broennen.
“I don’t think we should let him pass,” said Melwyn. “All in favor?” Four tiny hands shot into the air at once. It was unanimous.
Ewan looked worried, troubled that he might not be able to bring his new friend to camp. Then he smiled, leaning over, whispering something into Colby’s ear. Colby furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “Uh-uh.”
“Do it,” urged Ewan.
Colby continued his exaggerated head shake. “No way. You do it.”
“I can’t,” said Ewan.
“What are you two up to?” asked Caja.
“I’m not doing that in front of girls,” said Colby.
“If you don’t, you’ll never get to the village. They won’t let you.”
Caja glowered, wary of Ewan’s scheming. “Ewan?”
Colby hung his head, sighing deeply. Then he stripped off his shirt, turning it inside out, and put it back on. The pixies’ eyes grew wide with shock and for a moment it seemed as if the entire wood had gone silent.
Talwyn covered her mouth, pointing. “His shirt! It’s . . . it’s . . .”
“It’s inside out!” cried Broennen. The pixies burst into fits of laughter. Each spiraled out of control, careening, flailing about the forest, chortling with churlish, uncontrollable laughter. They spun, flitting; wheeling about the wood as if dangled on the end of a string whirled above the heads of the boys. “It’s inside out!” Broennen repeated. “Inside out!”
“How silly! How silly he is!” cried Melwyn.
Ewan grabbed Colby by the arm. “Quick! Let’s go.” Colby nodded and the two ran off together up the next hill. They sprinted as fast as they could, their little legs carrying them up and over the hilltop, then down toward the small valley dip below. Behind them they could still hear the wild laughter of the pixies, a sound seemingly chasing them, driving them like stampeding cattle down the slope. “Don’t look back!” yelled Ewan to his new friend “And whatever you do, don’t turn your shirt back right side out!”
“Okay!” yelled Colby, falling behind. Colby wasn’t nearly as athletic as Ewan, who gracefully darted over rocks, weaving in and out of trees. He kept up as best he could, but the sharp pain of a cramp through the side of his stomach soon brought him to a stop. Overwhelmed, Colby, with a single arm, propped himself against a tree, wheezing, trying to work through the discomfort.
Ewan looked back over his shoulder, saw that he had lost Colby, and, without slowing down, swung around on a tree trunk to backtrack.
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Colby panted. “Who were those girls?”
Ewan stopped in place, not even winded. “Those were the pixie sisters. Talwyn, Melwyn, Caja, and Broennen.”
“They were mean!”
“I think they were just playing.”
Colby looked up, confused. “So why did we run?”
Ewan smiled. “Because they are nasty pranksters, and I didn’t want to see what they had in mind for . . .” Slowly, Ewan’s smile drooped as he trailed off. “Uh-oh.”
Colby soon shared Ewan’s worried expression. “What do you mean, uh-oh?”
“Don’t look behind you.”
Colby turned around. Behind him, not five feet from where he was standing, stood a brown pony, ornately saddled, staring right into Colby’s eyes. Its mane was braided in places, long red plaits running down through nicely combed hair. This was no wild horse, but rather someone’s kept beast, wandering in the